Page 7 of Theirs to Corrupt

At least I’m too smart to ever be one of them.

Not that he’d be interested anyway.

Suddenly an alarm chimes on my phone, jolting me, letting me know I have one minute to get inside or I’ll be late.

No time for sitting here thinking about the billionaire and his bodyguard.

I turn off the ignition, but the vehicle keeps rattling for a few more seconds.

Every day, the beat-up sedan makes a valiant effort to avoid the junkyard, and I appreciate its efforts. One day it will lose the battle, but unfortunately I can’t afford anything better.

Still, I count my blessings that I have any form of transportation and that the AC blows semicool air.

As I hurry across the parking lot, the sticky Houston heat clings to my skin like a second outfit.

I’m so ready for summer to be over.

When the door closes behind me and my eyes adjust to the dimness, my steps falter.

They’re here.

Link and Pax sit at their usual booth, an island of power in a sea of rowdy regulars.

My heart does a terrible little flip in my chest.

“Nikki!!” Marge’s gravelly voice cuts through the twangy sounds of Blake Shelton lamenting lost love on the jukebox.

Grateful she’s remembered to call me by my fake name, I glance her direction.

“Table five just got here, and they need service.”

Table five. That’s not Link and Pax.

Grateful, I nod, then go into the back room to put my purse away for safekeeping.

As I emerge, Link catches my eye, and he crooks a finger at me, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

My stomach performs a gold-medal-worthy somersault.

“They got their first round from the bar,” Marge says. “But it looks as if they want you to wait on them.”

No way.“Are you sure they don’t want Cheryl?” I ask, glancing at my bubbly blonde coworker.

Unfortunately she’s on the far end of the bar, and there’s no way he means anyone but me.

“If you don’t want to take care of them, I’ll handle it.”

I sigh, remembering the hundred-dollar tip, which I probably hadn’t deserved with my outright hostile behavior.

As much as I would have never admitted it, the money had been a lifesaver. That day, my cellphone bill had been due, and my car needed gas. Oh, and it had been my turn to buy a few groceries from the supermarket.

“Nikki?” Marge prompts.

“I’ll take care of them.”When I get around to it. “Thanks, though.” I take my time tying my apron into place and grabbing my order pad.

Marge laughs. “Like living on the edge?”

“Something like that.” I grin at her.